It was... sad, she thought, to have lost a child and yet, she'd always been able to ream optimistic at the worst of times. She'd dared not name the child, unwilling to allow yet another ghost haunt her dreams as her mother did at times. After all, she figured her breathless daughter could go to Zeivah in the heavens - they could care for one another. That was a pleasant thought, one that made it easier to deal with as she worked on burying the child. With Swallowbane having arrived, as if summoned, it lessened the burden too, and it was such a heavy burden even if she had not admitted it yet. Should she tell Ramiel and Wren when the time came? Would there ever be a time to tell them of such a thing? She'd have to ask her Bane soon, but for now, she was content twisting to better face him, pressing herself against him as she licked at his muzzle, whimpering beneath her breath. She'd even noticed the way he had stared at their silent son, but she'd taken to nudging the boy at intervals, reminding herself that he was okay. So long as she lived, they'd always be okay.

Only then, once she has truly made herself comfortable in the tangled mess that she was, Bane and their children did she notice the presence lingering outside the den. She, too, found herself overwhelmed by such a strange feeling - anger? No, no, it was not anger but... she had to growl, low and quiet before she realised just who it was she had growled at. Instantly, she whined, her tail thumping nervously behind her - no! Amaterasu! She had not meant to growl at her own sister, no, no, particularly not when she came with such a gift and a voice so missed.

"Tribus, sister. Filii duo et filia, she... she non superesse."

(Three, sister. Two sons and a daughter, she did not survive.)

Saying the words burned, a sharp pain that found its way to her very heart and she fought back to the urge to weep. She could not, not with Bane being so strong - she had to be more like him, stronger for him and their children. She shuffled forward, remaining ever as close to Bane but emerging somewhat so that she could meet her sister's own gaze with a weak smile.

"Ramiel, Wren. Wren makes nihil sonus. Hoc est normalis?"

(Wren makes no sound; is this normal?)